


it's quiet uptown.

by totallyfxcked



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Inspired by Hamilton, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Song: It's Quiet Uptown, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Mourns Peter Parker, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, maybe ooc? i don't know, that super depressing one, you know that one song?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 13:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyfxcked/pseuds/totallyfxcked
Summary: post infinity war fic where tony stark isn't really sure what to do besides mourn. might add more chapters but not sure. inspired by the song "it's quiet uptown" from hamilton (hence the title.)





	it's quiet uptown.

it was quiet.

he'd wished for quiet for years, for safety from the voices in his head for as long as he could remember. now they spoke in whispers, and tony wished they would just scream at him and end the unbearable hell he had found himself trapped in.

there was no solace. no comforting words in his ears, no hands on his shoulders, no mugs of tea thrust into his hands. his friends were quiet. a bit louder than tony, but quiet nonetheless.

peter was never quiet.

he spoke every single second, words dripping from his tongue like he was a prophet. tony hadn't even realized that he'd gotten used to peter's constant noise until it was gone. if he thought hard enough, he could conjure up peter's voice in his head. his ever-enthusiastic tone, his childlike lilt, his rushed diction...

tony couldn't indulge in the fantasy for too long, though, because peter's voice always led to peter's words.

"i don't feel so good."

those words were some of the only few not welcome in the terrible quiet. those were the words that made him want to throw up, down a whole bottle of vodka in one go, and invite the quiet to stay forever.

tony knew that the living heroes whispered about him. he didn't need spider-hearing or whatever the fuck peter called it to realize that. they hadn't the foggiest idea who he was mourning. the cyborg he'd met in space, nebula, told them something about a teenaged boy, but to hell if the avengers knew who he was (peter had wanted his identity to be kept a secret, so of course tony obviously followed through and kept it a secret to everyone except happy and pepper.)

they never outright asked about it, although tony wished they would.

it was quiet.

it was dark, too. tony didn't know why they'd thought it was a good idea to leave his room so dark; maybe they thought he'd leave. his mind was dark, too. he did what he could to stay in the light, to avoid the negativity brewing in almost every portion in his head, but doing so seemed impossible, and he almost always found himself wallowing in grief anyway.

sometimes, he found himself wondering if pepper was alive. the princess of wakanda could probably determine the answer faster than tony could say "i need her." he considered the option often, always deciding that schrödinger's cat being both alive and dead simultaneously was much better than knowing it was dead.

he knew may was alive. he didn't know how he knew, but he did. parker luck, peter would always say. it was parker luck that may would be alive and peter would be dead. tony soon decided that it wasn't actually parker luck, it was stark luck.

tony stark destroyed everything he put his hands on. his best intentions always ended with death. always. there were no exceptions. he was the plague, the black death, the rotting corpses of his victims existing as a constant reminder of his wrongdoings.

bruce had said thanos was the plague, but he was wrong. it was tony, and it had always been tony. of that he was sure.

it was quiet.

like tony, peter had often wished for the quiet. he could hear everything, he had said. he hated hospitals because he could hear the tears of family, the flatlines of fighters, the questions of children. he hated school because he could hear the gossip, the lockers slamming, the pop of bubblegum.

he knew that peter would've hated this type of quiet, though, for this quiet was not an escape. it was not a break from the noise of being alive. it was a venture to the soundtrack of hell: mourning and death and grief and the opening of bottles and hopelessness.

tony had cried only twice since it happened. the first time was directly afterwards, when all that existed of peter was a few flakes of dust on his fingertips. he cried because thanos was only supposed to take half of the world, but he'd somehow been able to take the entire thing from tony. he cried because for the first time in his life, there was nothing to prepare for.

he had thought he prepared for everything, every possible scenario, yet the ashes of his son were resting on his hands as if he was worthy of holding them. he knew he wasn't worthy. he knew it. he had failed peter. he had killed peter. his cries were all too loud in a world that was all too quiet.

the second time was once he had finally made it back to the avengers- or, more appropriately, what was left of the avengers. he was late to the party, apparently, and not in a cool, apathetic way. they all seemed to have done their mourning, but not tony. they insisted that he get himself cleaned up, starting with a shower. he was about to listen thoughtlessly, but his eyes drooped to his hands, where the dust that was peter still rested.

he had a full-fledged panic attack at the thought of losing what little of the kid he had left. this came as a shock to most of the others; only rhodey had even known about tony's anxiety. eventually, they determined what his desperate, constant muttering of _"it's all i have left"_ meant. they treated him like he was made of out of glass, but tony wished they'd yell at him or snap at him or tell him to get it together.

they never did.

it was quiet.

he was quiet the first day he left his room since he had been back (he wanted to say he was 'lucky' that there was a bathroom with a shower in his room, but he found himself unable to express this in a way that clarified that he knew he wasn't truly lucky, and that this small victory didn't do anything to placate the grief that plagued him.) the others stared at him like they had seen a ghost as he plopped down at the table and swirled a spoon around his cereal; he couldn't dream of taking more than a few bites.

steve sat next to him, and tony had to fight the urge to glare at the man until he left; he had dropped a fucking boarding tunnel on peter, and tony found himself wanting to punch the living daylight out of him for doing so. he settled for ignoring the man.

"it's good to see you."

steve's voice was quiet, and tony clenched his fist so tightly he was sure he drew blood. he huffed before turning and looking the captain directly in the eyes.

"you're the last person i want to hear that from," he spat, well-aware that he was just putting off something that had to be done eventually.

tony figured steve would take it in stride, and was pleasantly surprised by the outpour of shock and offense on his face. he quickly covered it up with that classic captain america composure, sighing before placing a hand on tony's shoulder.

"i know how you feel."

tony froze a moment; he remembered peter's arms wrapped around him like he was a lifejacket, his hand on tony's shoulder.

_idontwannagoidontwannagoidontwannago-_

he recoiled at the sound of the familiar words stuck like a broken record in his head before pushing steve's hand away, every muscle in his body tensing as he exhaled shakily.

"you have no idea. you have no idea."

no one spoke after that.

it was quiet.

tony missed peter's constant, curious questions. at the time, he thought they had bugged him. he was wrong. he wanted someone to ask him questions, their voice above a whisper.

it was quiet.

he determined that peter had fizzled out like a firework; the kid started off with so much light, a beautiful sight to behold. he sparkled even as he vanished, and left nothing but ash and smoke in the shape of his silhouette. he was so, so loud, and then he was nothing.

it was quiet.

the wakandan general, okoye, approached him at lunch. no one was around. tony knew it was because they were afraid of breaking him.

"i am sorry, man of iron," she said. her voice wasn't reassuring, but it wasn't quiet, either. it was flat and loud; tony liked the change. "it is terrible to be treated like you are made of glass."

tony nodded.

"they told me it was a teenager. was he yours?"

"i'm not his father. he has an aunt. she's his guardian," tony answered quickly; it was a reflex at this point.

"i didn't ask if he was yours by blood or by law. i asked if he was your child."

tony looked up from his full plate, hesitating for a few beats before answering. "it sure feels like it."

okoye nodded. "how do you think he would react if he saw you like this?"

he would hate me, tony thought, but quickly corrected himself. the kid couldn't hate tony. the man had no idea why, but peter didn't have an ounce of hatred in his body.

"he'd be.. disappointed."

"then make him proud." her answer was immediate.

she gave him a respectful smile before leaving the room.

it was quiet.

it was different this time, though. the quiet wasn't suffocating; it was thoughtful. tony would die before he disappointed peter. he wouldn't be like his father, he had said. he would break the cycle.

strange must have sacrificed the time stone for a reason. tony must be important somehow. sure, he still felt as if he was to blame for what happened to peter, but he could deal with that guilt after he brought everybody back.

the talk with the general hadn't been much, but she treated him like he had been treated before. he somehow understood something he didn't understand prior to their conversation; he shouldn't let his loss knock him out of the race. he should let his loss motivate him to keep going.

he took a few more bites of his sandwich- working on an empty stomach was never a good idea- and headed over to the lab. there was only one person there: shuri, the wakandan princess. tony vaguely remembered someone telling him that her brother had also been a casualty.

she looked up once she heard his footsteps, smiling politely.

"tony stark! i'm glad to see you out of your room and in the lab where you belong."

tony was so sick of formalities.

"how can we save them?" he asked, well-aware of how exhausted and defeated he must look.

shuri smiled; this time, it was sincere.


End file.
